‘Right.’ Villiers leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. ‘Well, it’s true enough. After Mr Hepton called here, I was able to contact our embassy in Washington. Major Dreyfuss is there at the moment, though that must remain strictly between us. Ah …’

Sanders pushed open the door and brought in a tray, the cups chinking together as he moved.

‘I hope you’re a better tea-maker than you are a driver,’ Jilly commented, the hint of a sneer on her face.

Sanders paused, but chose to ignore her. He left the tray on the desk in front of Villiers, then exited again. There was something else on the tray beside tea. It was a sheet of paper. Villiers slid it towards himself, glanced at it, then turned it so that the writing was facing away from him. His right hand went to his inside pocket and came out with a fountain pen, the top of which he removed to reveal a gold nib.

‘Miss Watson?’

‘Yes?’ Jilly stopped pacing and came to the desk. ‘What’s this?’

‘Routine, I’m afraid. I know Mr Hepton has already signed, as was required of him when he started work. If you would just …’

Jilly picked up the form and studied it. It was simple and to the point. It was the catch-all.

‘The Official Secrets Act?’ she said, smiling. ‘Well, why not?’ She snatched the pen from him and scratched her name on the paper, then handed back both paper and pen. Villiers looked satisfied, and slid the sheet into the top drawer of his desk. ‘I don’t mind signing something I’m quite willing to break,’ Jilly said with finality. Villiers’ satisfaction took the slightest of jolts. Jilly had picked up the teapot. ‘Shall I be mother?’

Villiers accepted his cup with what grace he could muster. He was still playing the senior civil servant.

‘So what’s this about Dreyfuss?’ asked Hepton, growing impatient.

‘Ah yes, Major Dreyfuss. Well, he’d like a word with you.’

‘With me?’ Jilly said, hopefully.

‘Alas, no, with Mr Hepton.’

‘Me?’ Hepton could not hide his surprise. ‘Whatever for? He hardly knows me.’

‘Yes, but he knows you by reputation, apparently. The embassy will be calling in another five minutes or so.’

‘But what does he want?’

‘I really can’t say.’ Villiers sat back, lips tightly closed, as though prepared to sit out the time before the phone call in silence.

‘Tell us about the Falklands,’ Jilly said nonchalantly.

Villiers twitched and leaned back in his chair, as though he had just been given a mild but unpleasant electric shock.